


Say it! Say it!

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gardens, Gay, Hetalia, M/M, True Love, tomatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4125813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spain and Romano have angst whilst in the garden. You don't get to find out if the ending's happy or not until you read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say it! Say it!

Romano stared blankly at the tomato, determined to win the staring contest he had initiated with an intimate object. He poked the red fruit sadly, dropping his head to the table. 

He sighed. The Tomato dominated him. He had just been dominated in a staring contest. By a tomato. It’s a fucking vegetable fruit thing. It doesn’t even have eyes. 

Romano sighed again. This was such a boring, despicable day. 

He needed to go garden. 

Romano stood up and walked outside, leaving his shoes off and the door open behind him. He walked around the house, and stood at the edge of his garden. He took a deep breath, savoring the deep smell of fresh dirt, tomato leaves, and fresh flowers. 

This was his place, his home. This was where he belonged. This was where he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and no one could ever tell him otherwise. He swore to god, if anyone ever tried to trash his garden, he would tear their lungs out with a rusty spork and feed it to them with a rake. 

Romano was very protective of his plants. 

He stepped onto the soft, slightly damp dirt, and sighed deeply, finally relaxing. This was where he belonged. 

Romano walked slowly around his whole garden, gently touching the flowers. He’d reach out his hand, cupping the delicate clusters with his thin fingers, and lean forward, breathing in their scent. Then he would walk onward, eyes intent on their next prize. 

He must have spent at least an hour like this, just taking in the beauty that he had helped cultivate. This was the one thing he had that Italy didn’t. Italy couldn’t grow something to save his life. Plants practically died as soon as he touched them. It was terrifying. 

Romano had lots of rules about Italy being around his garden, all of them being variations of “Get the fuck away from my plants!”

Romano knelt down next to the roots of a dejected looking Dahlia bush. These had just been watered this afternoon. There shouldn’t be any withering or –   
Damn those disgusting weeds. Here they were, hiding under the dark fronds of a beautiful plant, sucking the freaking life out of it. It was a sin. A fucking sin. 

Romano began to carefully pull out the weeds, making sure not to disturb the roots of the Dahlia. He dugs his nails into the dark dirt, unaware that sharp spines   
form the weeds were digging into his palms. 

After every single weed had been viciously eradicated and torn into little pieces, Romano sat up, and stretched his back. Wow. He hadn’t realized he had been that tense. Ever since – 

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that. Not now. 

Romano took a deep breath, holding back the hiccupping sob that wanted to escape from his throat. He wasn’t thinking about that right now. He couldn’t take it.   
He just couldn’t.

He stood up, grabbing the shredded carnage of weed clenched in already pricked fingers. 

He scoured the garden, determined to remove any scourge of a plant that dared set its roots down in his garden. 

Romano was kneeling underneath a small apple tree, scouring the ground when he heard footseps behind him. He froze as that oh so familiar shadow stopped to his left. 

“Lovi, you’re hurting your hands.” Spain knelt down next to Romano, and tenderly tried to grab his hands.

“Get away from me.” Romano hissed, yanking his hands back. “I’m fine.” He wiped his hands on his shirt, and went back to pawing at the ground. 

“Lovino, you’re bleeding. Look at your shirt.”Spain tried to grab his hands again, more firm this time. 

“I said get away from me!” Romano yelled, jumping back and falling on his butt. “There’s weeds, okay? It’s fine!”

“Romano, there are no weeds.” Spain said softly, sitting back on his heels. “There’s nothing there.”

Romano stared blankly at the rent in the ground he had created. What. No weeds? What? “There were weeds there before.” He whispered. “I must have thrown them away.”

“Lovino, baby.”

“Don’t you dare call me baby!” Romano shrieked, voice cracking. “Not unless you mean it you two timing, dirty, rotten bastard!” 

“Wh-what?” Spain asked, sitting down cross legged on the ground. 

“You bastard!” he said, quieter. “Bastard.”

“Why am I such a bastard?” Spain asked softly, a nervous look on his face.

“You – you – “ Romano briefly wondered why he felt the deep desire to Spain he was absolutely perfect. 

No. No. He wasn’t perfect. He was hateful and mean and a traitor and he had said- he said – he – 

Romano dug the heels of his scratched hands into his eyes, forcefully pushing back the tears. He didn’t want it to hurt; he didn’t want it to be like this. He didn’t want this. Whatever Cupid that had come along and shot him in the ass deserved to die a thousand deaths for how much this hurt. 

“Lovi – “ Spain reached out, and gently pulled Romano’s hands away from his eyes. “Please let me help you get these bandaged up.” 

“No!”Romano yelled, launching himself at Spain. “No you don’t!”

Spain easily blocked the majority of Romano’s weak, ill aimed blows. He absorbed as much of the hatred as he could, hoping it would help, somehow.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Romano screamed. “You bastard! You faggot! You traitor! You liar! You thief! You stole it, and I don’t know how to get it back! You fucking whore! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Suddenly, Romano froze, fist halfway to Spain’s face. He lurched backwards, pushing his hands frantically against the dirt in order to get away from the person he loved most. 

God, he just couldn’t bear it. Spain had said he didn’t like him. Spain had said he didn’t like him. If there was no like, then there would never be any love. Romano should have said something when he had the chance. He should have given in to Spain’s affection when it was given often. He should have let the man know that   
he liked it. 

Now he hadn’t, and it hurt so bad. Spain was all he wanted, and then he had said he didn’t like him.

Spain didn’t like him. 

Well, it made sense. There wasn’t much to like. 

Spain sat up slowly, and shook his head quickly. He looked at Romano worriedly, but didn’t reach out again. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly.”

“Say it.” Romano whispered, his entire body shaking. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Spain asked, voice hoarse.

“Say you hate me! Say it!” Romano buried his face in his arms, unable to bear the thought of Spain seeing him cry. “Say it!”

Spain was silent, though he clenched his fists. 

“I’m a terrible person! I hit you and say I hate you and I hurt you and everything else I touch! I even hurt my goddamn plants!” He gestured to the partially open roots of the apple tree he had been trying to save from ‘weeds’. 

“Say you hate me!” Romano stood up, and stomped his foot, no longer caring that tears were streaming openly down his face. “Say! Say I hate you!” 

“Why?” Spain asked quietly. 

Romano just stared at him, quaking breaths escaping from his mouth. It took four more tears for Spain to speak again. 

“I love you.” Spain whispered, face gentle, eyes passionate and intense. 

Romano sobbed, bending over and wrapping his arms around his stomach. He staggered backwards, ducking his chin against his chest. 

Spain lunged forward, pulling his little Lovi into his arms. He held him tight, cradling his head against his chest. “Shhhh.” He hushed soothingly. “I’ve gotcha.”

“You said you didn’t like me.” Romano choked, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. “You told France you didn’t like me.”

“Oh Lovi.” Spain murmured, stroking Romano’s hair gently. “Right after I said, I told him I loved you.” 

Romano moaned, sinking to the ground. “Wh-what?” 

“I love you.” Spain sat down next to him, and pulled him into his arms. He gently rubbed his shoulders, humming quietly.

Romano moaned again, burying his face in Spain’s chest. “I love you too.” He muttered, loving and hating the way that sounded. 

Spain hugged his baby tighter, burying his nose in his shoulder. 

“I – I’m sorry.” Romano sniffed. 

“That’s maybe the third time I’ve heard you say that.” Spain teased, playing with a strand of Romano’s hair. "Ever."

“Shut up! You’re not going to hear it again either you little fuck!”He coughed. “Um. I mean – “

Spain placed a finger over Romano’s lips, shushing him. “You’re not allowed to change, alright? I fell in love with you, not some pussy footing prick, as you might say.”

Romano chuckled a little, curling up smaller on Spain’s lap. “Does this mean we’re gay now?”

Spain practically giggled. “Yes, it does.”

“So I can call you a faggot and it will be true?”

“Shut up.” Spain teasingly punched him the jaw.

Romano’s bright laugh turned into a soft moan when Spain’s light punch turned into a soft kiss. 

“God, you’re good at that.” Spain whispered as he pulled away.

Romano crossed his arms and looked away angrily to hide his blush. “You fucking doms. Always being so damn pushy.”

“You know you love it.” Spain whispered, kissing him again.

“Just a little.” Romano whispered breathily. “Not that I’m going to get all moany and begging on you. I’m not that kind of person.”

Spain said nothing, only smiling a smile that reeked of a sexually repressed, overconfident dom with a Romano fetish. 

“Stop smiling like that!”Romano yelled. “It’s hot! Make it stop!”

Spain silenced him with another kiss. “You know you love me.” He whispered softly.

“I do.” Romano huffed. “I do.”


End file.
